Tag Archives: Nextgen

I have not written about love stories since long. Thought of revisiting some unknown love stories of a few common people from the ‘black& white’ era. The love stories I am about to narrate seem important in my understanding and important for a narration on a public platform because of two reasons: (a) we talk of our era as ‘bold’, to-the-point and frank in terms of expressing love and maintaining relationships as compared to say someone from the 50’s-60’s or 80’s. But there is something called commitment and guts which perhaps the generation that we live in lacks may be because of career consciousness or may be because of image consciousness; (b) Love has become in my opinion more conservative than it was before. We move from empty Emotional Quotients (EQs) into emptier life-styles where love is marked by the number of pizzas or pastries or the number of movies seen together in a multiplex or else the amount of gifts purchased from malls and markets. Love is determined by the consumerism of today’s existence where an i-phone or an expensive watch or a flat in Lokhandwala or Bandra becomes the benchmark of a ‘true’ relationship. I am not saying that love doesn’t exist, I am just trying to say that ‘true’ love is a rare phenomenon these days. Finance and career consciousness have taken over in the race for stable relationships. Perhaps, many of us are afraid that commitments can take a toll on our careers or else can lead to an emotional trap. Very true, commitments can lead to an emotional trap and this is a world where expressing emotions are seen to be signs of weakness rather than strength. Of course there is the concept of the ‘metrosexual’ male or female who is not afraid of crying in public — emotions however do not mean only ‘crying’ or ‘cribbing’, they go much beyond….

The love stories that I am about to narrate are that of real people, people like you and me (I have/had their permission to write the story). Let me take you back to 1952, the immediate post-independence India. The locale is Pune and the specifics are Dehu, Army Camp near the Ordinance depot. This was the era of independence and Anand Math; jawans woke to the rhythm of Vande Mataram at early dawn. Monsoons were particularly interesting because of the amount of rains Pune and Mumbai received during those days, also because of the dampness of the make-shift canvas tents, and because of the stickiness of the black cotton soil of that belt. The nation was fresh with vigour to establish itself as a ‘free’ world. Freedom was a state of mind for people also — the youth of that era tried to live the newly gained national freedom in their lives. However, freedom comes with its own set of bondage — unemployment, casteism and communalism were rife.

One particular young man had newly joined the Ordnance factory — tall, very fair, slim, sharp features, grey longing eyes. He had recently enrolled into the Indian army as a Sergeant. Inspired by Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, grown up reading Tagore and Gandhi, this young man had a romantic disposition added to remarkably good looks. Indian army of those times was still ‘British’ in its ways and the training that this young man had received along with his deep insight into literary texts, made him an instant hit in his regiment, army mess and with the townsfolk. He had an added quality — he was a poet and had already published a series of his poems in magazines like Illustrated Weekly and leading newspapers of the time like The Statesman. Every Saturday morning he traveled with a group of colleagues to Mumbai from Pune station through the Deccan Queen express and stayed at the army base in Mumbai, enjoyed the monsoons in Juhu and Nariman Point and returned back on Sunday evening to Dehu camp. It was on this train that he met Bano the daughter of a Parsi merchant of Pune. Bano was a dream-come-true for the young officer, she was the most beautiful woman he had come across in his life. She was studying in an undergraduate college in Pune — very pretty, sophisticated, cultured and full of grace. The intimacy started growing and Deccan Queen became their meeting ground week after week. Her charm and her beauty added to her delightful understanding of education made her a prized possession for our hero. Months went by and the young man and Bano fell deeply in love. Things changed when he received a telegram from his village that he is needed urgently at home.

The life that this young officer had lead was all through books and his romantic idealism had made him forget that he belonged to a remote village of Odisha near Dhenkanal, his family and his parents were orthodox Brahmins who would never accept a Parsi girl in their home or even near their village. His dreams got a severe jolt through the telegram that he received — he had to go home urgently. His wedding had already been fixed by parents and those days (as it is even today) you couldn’t say a ‘no’ to your parents wishes. Moreover, he was the eldest in the family and his father was a farmer. His education and job meant a lot to the family and he could never deny their wishes. Our hero got married to an unknown girl, around thirteen years of age when he went home. There was grief, there was heart-break but soon the wife filled the emptiness of our protagonist’s life. She too came to know about Bano from the young man and his description of her always aroused curiosity and sometimes jealousy in the wife’s heart. She longed to meet Bano when they returned to Dehu. They deliberately traveled by Deccan Queen every weekend and sometimes weekdays just to catch a glimpse of Bano. Sometimes, they frequented the old Parsi coffee-house of Pune where he used to meet Bano but no one knew her whereabouts. The couple never was able to trace her. Two years went past and the ghost of Bano still haunted our officer at times. However, married life had its own demands and with a baby born in the camp, there were more reasons to rejoice than to miss a mysterious lady who had only a few days presence in this man’s life. Soon a posting order came and the Sergeant was transferred from Pune to Jhansi with a promotion. The couple decided to travel to Mumbai, stay there for a few days and then leave for Jhansi from Mumbai. It was a Friday and they boarded the Deccan Queen for Mumbai as usual. In the same compartment was a little girl, the youngest sister of Bano. The officer was surprised, his happiness knew no bounds and he immediately introduced his wife to Bano’s sister and inquired about her. Strangely, the little girl divulged no details about Bano’s whereabouts. He understood her sentiments — requested a piece of newspaper from a fellow passenger and in a hurry scribbled a few lines in English with his ink pen on the already shoddy newspaper surface that read ‘Dear Bano, leaving for Jhansi on Sunday. Hope you will forgive me. My first book will be dedicated to you’ . They left for Jhansi that Sunday and he never got to meet Bano again during his lifetime and he never got a chance to visit Pune. A few years later his first book released in Odiya and the book was called Adbhuta Chakra (The Strange Cycle) and on the opening page it was written For, Bano. Three of his subsequent books were all dedicated to this lady….

I am not sure if Bano or someone who knows her is reading this post today. She must be at least seventy-three years now. He is no more…. But even during his last days he talked about her and had once asked me to write a profile of Bano. I never had the courage to do so, but today when I feel the agony of observing our generation love stories, I get the courage to write about Bano. Bano, if you are reading this article (I am sure you’ll not be because blogs are for ‘our times’ but if your grandchildren read this probably they might inform you) it is just meant to let you know that Bijon did talk about you and considered you as his inspiration throughout his life.

We live in a world where perhaps casteism does not exist so vehemently as it did in 1950s. However, we have the problem these days of emotional honesty where to own-up that you are in love is not only a risk but also a big game. Mobile phones, smses and partner-swap have taken our time and energy rather than books, ideals and emotions that can even be remotely called love….

I shall continue this post with another love story situated in 1980s in my next post….

I was taking a walk this evening through the lanes of my new world and new campus. 9.30pm is not such a late evening I suppose. Post-dinner walk is a routine for me for the past many months — but lost as I am always in my own thoughts and my own world, more-so without specs, it’s difficult for me to recognize faces. Suddenly from one dark corner of the lone building someone shouted at the top of his voice, “good evening maam” — the voice was warm, mischievous and naughty, enough to jolt me out of my somnambulism . My immediate response was to turn around and respond with a “good evening” as loud as his, but he ran away and vanished in the fraction of a second. I stood there waiting for him to come back so that I can return his good-evening with my own response and in fact inquired from people around in order to know the name of this boy who had the powers of vanishing 🙂 . Stood there for 10 mins or so, I knew very well that he will not come back — perhaps he was afraid I might scold or complain, or perhaps it was just a part of a prank to make me aware that a world exists outside my own hemispheres. If the second case is true, I must thank my unknown benefactor.

Yet, I am concerned and slightly afraid of the trends. Not that am too far in times or social status to judge the present generation but there is something much more deeper and more troubling which needs to be looked at seriously. The first aspect that I am thinking of is regarding the safety of women/ girl students in smaller towns, localities or suburban colleges in India. How safe is a girl actually? How safe are her peripheries and her zone of movement? There is something extremely lurid in the depiction and imagination of women in India. However, if our role models are so problematic then what do we expect of a younger generation? On Friday night, I was just browsing through the news channels and happened to come across a late night edition of IBN Live ‘s show where Mr. Rajdeep Sardesai, Mr. Suheil Seth, Ms.Nikunj Malik, and Mr. Siddharth Basu were discussing the fate of Rahul Mahajan and Dimpy Ganguly (I am desperately trying to search that video on net in order to give you an evidence of the tone of such a conversation, but the video seems to have been removed). Except for Siddharth Basu, the rest of the team seemed to take an unhealthy pleasure in maligning a couple going through rough times. In fact, the extent of the discussion was such that Mr. Sardesai asks Ms. Malik if she would like to get married to an eternal bachelor like Mr. Seth and further deeper innuendos on Friday evening and the social and cultural background of a character like Dimpy. Not that I have any special corner for either the couple or malign against the news channel but the kind of discussion that was on was simply in ‘bad faith’. On the one hand, Mr. Sardesai talks of Indian audience being extremely voyeuristic and on the other there is a vocal discussion of Friday late night jokes where the trauma of a family is open to national scrutiny. Personally, I feel that there ought to be no room for academic snobbery while sitting on the editor’s desk especially to ridicule a girl as that ‘Dimply’ and with statements that would implicitly imply “she deserves it because she got married to a wife-abuser in a third-rate show”. Is this what a nation condemns its women to? What do we name this? The media and national news channels are supposedly live schoolrooms where students learn not only General Knowledge but also facing the nation with a certain degree of respect and responsibility. Students learn the very alphabet of a code of conduct from the media that they get exposed to. If national televisions and news channels themselves are so dramatically bent towards publishing lewd paparazzi or superstitions then where do young minds of not more than 18-20 yrs stand in this ruthless onslaught of information? Many women are subject to not only physical but also linguistic and imaginative violence at every stage of their life. In this context, where does a young girl just out of her teens not even sure of herself, joining college for the first time stand her chances? I don’t have an answer….

The second aspect that troubles my thought is that I have been observing cultural shows and galas of late at various institutions. There seems to be a dearth of imagination and all the shows boil down to just dating, flirting and dancing for so called ‘love’ and the ‘moving on’ aspect post the one-evening love. These shows have either Bollywood or else TV shows with Swayamvar kind of content. Drama, especially theater where students actually learn to perform as well as understand texts that would enrich their vocabulary as well as understanding of life seems to have vanished somewhere. Everyday communication has taken center stage and there seems to be hardly the time to read, understand and assimilate. I am not sure if in the craze to make technology and communication ‘simpler’ we are trying to produce a crop of students who do not understand any other language except the ‘simplified’ language of MMSes, SMS, social networking sites or cliff-notes for studies. I am slightly pessimistic regarding the role of a teacher to motivate students to ‘read’. Remember Robin Williams’ role in the classic movie ‘Dead Poets Society’? All this seems very attractive and motivating on-screen but how far we are able to bring out that which we are supposed to bring out in the young minds…I am still in doubt.

A recent study published as an article in an online portal called ‘Boston Globe’ states that there is a sharp decline in students across the world regarding their motivation and the hours they put in study. The amount of time invested by students to study has dramatically reduced over the years to an extent that now students study less than an hour a day. That is scary! I have a very strong reservation against compartmentalizing academic disciplines. We will prepare good servants not good leaders or bright futures of this society if we limit ourselves to academic disciplines. Einstein also read philosophy, Gandhi did read Ruskin (the economist) to prepare his political ideologies, and if we look at the people of today Nandan Nilekani or Narayan Murthy or Kanwal Rekhi, in my perception have not limited themselves to studying Computer Science or Information Technology. In order to rule the roost, the secret of any leader’s achievement is her/his capacity to read, understand and assimilate things across disciplines. We cannot and should not stop a mathematician to learn Sanskrit or Prakrit and we cannot stop a doctor to understand literary theory. If we intend to divide curriculum on the basis of disciplines and if as students we have the apathy in accepting a new thought, a new idea or a new stream of knowledge, it is our gross misfortune. The world has opened up to disciplines — it has become interdisciplinary. The sooner we accept the fact, better it is for a growing economy like ours.

As a nation, we are gifted with a population comprising largely of the younger generation. You must have seen the cola ad everywhere regarding ‘Youngistan’ a pun on ‘Hindustan’. What kind of nation do we want to build? Is there a nation to build at all? Is there an India? Why not call each of our states just by their individual names instead of calling the whole geographical chunk as ‘India’? How many of us agree to that proposition? None…because of some weird sense of a ‘hidden’ nationalism at the idealistic level, and economic as well as political reasons at deeper levels. However, when it comes to positively building a nation by contributing in ways which can help those sections of the society which actually need our help, we back-off. What kind of younger generation are we preparing for tomorrow? A generation that exists for itself? Selfishness, unscrupulousness and dishonesty in personal and professional lives — is this the kind of nation we want to give to the ‘Youngistan’? Are we building a literate mass that knows how to read and write and talk, talk ‘Hinglish’ and talk to the interview board with street-smartness not with integrity or knowledge? I am reminded of an ad of a fairness company launching a male fairness-cream brand. The ad shows a good-looking smart male snatching away a job from the interviewers with his street-smart attitude and his good-looks. If that is what it takes to get a job these days then why are we setting up institutes of learning? We just need some companies to groom our looks and develop our power of talking confidently….

All these thoughts crossed my mind this evening… ‘good evening’ to you as well! 🙂

I picked up the call slightly irritated at the prospect of being disturbed. It was my father, so naturally the tone of irritation mellowed to soft greetings. He sounded excited and breathlessly said: “listen….The new Nano has come to market. Ratan Tata inaugurated it…. I just saw the test drive on the TV….We want to buy three Nanos…can you check the price and tell me…I will book it from here right now or else will send you the money by core banking and you can buy all three and keep one for yourself as a birthday gift….” 🙂

For a few minutes I was speechless….”What! How many Nanos did you say?”

He was slightly embarrassed and now with a softer tone said, “Three” ….

I laughed out aloud and said, “papa..three Nanos are a little too much…we can’t afford it….Moreover, what will I do with a Nano when I don’t even know how to ride a bi-cycle…. 😉 If you want I’ll check one Nano for you and mom and will tell you if there are cheaper options based on taxes from one state to another….” He was slightly disappointed that I didn’t need a Nano but was Ok in a minute or two. Later, I described him about the EMI and bank credit systems and the one-time money deposit scheme for the Nano….He didn’t seem very impressed…but well….

Later, the idea of “three” cars made me chuckle for an entire evening. I was wondering about the apparent “financial prosperity” of the “Great Indian Middle Class”. This incident took me down the memory lane when we had only an old Lambi (Lambretta) scooterwhich was forced to accommodate 4 people. I was always sandwiched between the rider and the back seat passenger, dangling in the half space between the two seats. Whereas, my brother would be in a half standing position, between the driver (my father) and the front handle. He would keep on singing or blabbering, while our team scooted away to markets, restaurants or sometimes on long drives. As we started to grow up, father had to crane his head over our shoulders in order to see the road and drive, until the process had to be finally stopped and the lambi was sold off. We were all very sad to part with our beloved orange lambi that had borne our weights and us for such a long time. But, the lambi was not only a scooter, it was a symbol of an entire generation, of a generation which had a connection with early 20th century technology. If you search Wiki entry on a Lambretta scooter, you will find not only the story of a particular make of an automobile, but also can find an entire cultural process associated with it. That scooter was a symbol of a generation which had Beatles, Elvis Priestley, the Hippie culture, etc. as its iconic figure-heads. I do not know why, a lambi brings to my mind a generation which had “rock” and “disco” as its themes and “freedom” and “liberty” as its motto.

The scooter was not very comfortable for four people… but still it was the mark of prosperity and “family-ness” of our parents’ generation, where only the richest people in town had a Fiat car or an Ambassador. Every Sunday, my father would take us to the local haat (Sunday market) on the lambi and would shop vegetables, fruit and pulses for an entire week. Sometimes, he would get the week’s poultry supply or a fresh catch of bhakura fish from the local pond, neatly dressed up hanging from one of the handles of the lambi. We also got one Icecream (which me and my brother had to share) and pencils/scented erasers from the market as incentives to go Sunday shopping with our father. There were neither malls, nor gaming zones nor huge Icecream parlours to entertain us. Sunday market was the only place where we could relax after a week’s schooling and homework.

Times changed and so did automobiles… from Lambi to “Humara Bajaj”with the slogan,“buland bharat ki buland tasveer”(rough transl.: a strong India’s strong image). The advertisement of a Bajaj scooter was itself so alluring that, if you did not own a Bajaj you were left out of the race for prosperity where your friends kept on teasing you with; “you know we have a red bajaj and my father takes us to Chinese Fast-Food center in that bajaj…”. The scooter had something of a national pride and well …. who wants to be left out?

Came the time, when the degree of middle class prosperity suddenly peaked with the 5th Pay commission bringing huge goodies for government, semi-government and PSU employees. We bought a new Maruti home. We had elaborate rituals, “coconut-breaking”, “temple-going” ceremonies to welcome the Maruti. In fact, on our first ride (we had to hire a driver as my father did not know how to drive a car) in the Maruti car, we were given new clothes and sweets and also carried sweets and clothes for relatives whom we went to meet in that car proudly. We were given “special late night rides” during our board exams, to relax after a taxing day of nearly 18 hours study just before the exams. During these rides, we just had one thing to look forward to…the music wafting in the darkness from the car’s stereo system playing a cool number from the latest hit of the time….Hmmm….heaven! 🙂 One day while I was in Junior college, my parents were discussing my dowry and debating regarding which car to give to the groom (they had thought I might be a college drop-out soon and join some local dancing troupe 😉 ). I was listening to the discussion intently, suddenly raised my hand (as if in a classroom) and said: “no… please no car….Give me a Hoodibaba…you know it’s nice to be on a bike on the road, with the strong breeze blowing on your face” …. The event was no less than a culture shock for my parents. 😀

Times have changed. With the launch of Nano or such smaller cheaper cars, India seems to be moving towards a certain extreme individualistic life where we too will have a “one person one car” syndrome on the Indian roads. No, I am not being fascist or regressive. In fact, my love has always been formula-1 racing cars. I like the thought of being able to afford or dream of a car easily, but also concerned about the strong sense of the “personal” and “one-owner” system that these vehicles introduce as a part of changing human culture. Anyway, changes are inevitable.

Indian Republic seems to be united at these crucial moments after 26/11. I have never seen a more severe public outcry against terror and terrorists (some Indians choose to call them terrorists and not militants deliberately). My 7 year old cousin called me up from home and said, “listen, I had plans to go to meet you in Mumbai during these winter vacations, but am not coming any more. You see there is so much of Diwali going at every moment in Mumbai, it’s tough. Can’t you see Steel George Jack, Black beauty, General, Hunter wala all roaming around Mumbai.” I asked him who these people are? these are the names of the terrorists who attacked us, he said nonchalantly. I was shocked and surprised, asked him: “but these are not the names of the terrorists. What makes you think that they are terrorists’ names?” He replied: “boku (stupid)! They are terrorists you don’t know them…everyday I see them in cartoon network. The people who had grenades, bombs and guns in Mumbai are also the same Steel George [et al] and they are still alive. I will not come to Mumbai untilDas, Eon kid, Master Liv, Shadow, Captain Magna have not finished them off completely. You know even aeroplane is unsafe now.” Understandably, the second set of names are given to our NSGs and MARCOS. Clearly, the little child has followed the entire operations televised. It has left a very strong impression on his mind and he keeps bugging his parents to call me up and get the latest update. His imagination makes him believe that since all this is happening in Mumbai and I am in Mumbai, I must be the Live witness of the tragedy. When the operations were actually on in full swing, one day he called me up and asked: “do you think you are safe in your hostel?” I didn’t know what to reply and just said: “ye probably, since we have watchman uncle waiting with a large gun at the ground floor.” He was not at all convinced and said: “what watchman uncle will do? they have grenades and they can beat watchman uncle into pulp (chutney is the word he used) and can come into your rooms with AK-47. What will you do then?”

Such is a little child’s memory and the strong impression that the terror attacks have left on his mind. He will remember it for a very long time, but adults suffer from a kind of mass amnesia. Or perhaps our sensitivity level is less than that of a child. We love to forget. The comments that have come to the last posts relate to this theme of “forgetting and forgiving” and the comments aptly point that should we forgive or forget? We say we might forgive but not forget, but actually the fact is that we forget so we forgive. Kargil had left us wounded, angry and painful — but we have forgiven and forgotten. Perhaps, because the war was not between common everyday life leading people. We have started and restarted “samjhauta” every time, and what is the return? 26/11? Now the war has come to our streets and our homes — and when our streets are burning we can neither forgive nor forget. 26/11 has humiliated and insulted us — “hum yeh zalil maut nahin marenge” — we refuse to die this humiliating, soul-killing death, do what you may.

Interestingly, we tend to forget previous attacks so easily in the wake of any new attack. New Delhi, Guwahati, Jaipur, Hyderabad, Bangalaore, it has been happening and re-happening, yet we forget. There was nothing new in Mumbai except the tactics of the terrorists. We forget M.C.Sharma who too was a martyr — he was the first one to die in the aftermath of the terror attacks in Delhi. Therefore, he is so easily forgettable and in the words of some of our own people “forgivable” too (remember he was allgedly violating human rights?).

Yesterday, there was a news in CNN-IBN that a young Jawan was lynched and killed by an angry mob near Bhubaneswar, Odisha, in a train bound from Howrah to Chennai (Koramandal Express), just because he did not allow certain people traveling without tickets into the reserved compartment of the train. People pelted stones at him and beat him to death. This is the respect we show — this is the discipline we follow and rigour that we have as common human beings. What use is the candle light vigil and tribute to the armed forces if we have this kind of an attitude, where we lynch some and make some others our martyrs? Everything is chalta hai and not-my-business for the common Indian. If we say that politicians are corrupt, media is cheap, then who is to be blamed for? We elect the politicians, and we choose the leaders and then forget everything — leave things at their hands, and wait for some supernatural forces to protect us. If you ask Who is accountable? one answer to it is, that we are ourselves first accountable — because a democracy doesn’t need only voters it needs active participants in the governance system. We forget the moment we vote (many of us don’t even vote in the pretext of whom does one vote?) . Then, we wait for terror groups to come and bomb us or take us as hostages, and shriek who will protect us? No one truly, unless we ourselves do.

We have been shouting slogans against the political system — but we are responsible to make that system corrupt. If you see some of the videos of Pak News channels on You Tube, gosh! they are capable of making a falsehood into a complete, palpable, ready-to-dish reality. Hats off to them for propagandist writing — some pathetic hypotheses given colours of truths. Whereas, we are even incapable of handling the reality that are in front of our eyes and projecting it rightly to the world. What to do? We live in the practical possibility of a postmodern world where every individual formulates their own theories to avoid responsibility.

26/11 has made us forget many things. We forget the fire that was shimmering in Mumbai with MNS activists (lumpen elements) fencing off Mumbai from the rest of India. Some of the famous personalities had come out at the time with inflammatory statements about non-Marathis to be not allowed in this state. Rampaging, killing, beating people on the streets — how are you different from the terrorists? These activists (as they are called) also are among the common human beings, waiting for the next chance when 26/11 is forgotten and election season is close. So how does the junta distinguish them from terrorists? If anyone who harms national property, human lives are terrorists, then these are the first people who should be caught. They have killed and they have destroyed national property (railways).

One 9/11 was enough to keep an entire United States on its toes. There have been no attacks since then, even if it meant curbing individual rights. But, I wonder how many 26/11s more are needed to wake us from our slumber? Amnesia is good to a certain degree, but if we don’t learn lessons from these tragedies — then they will become more and more frequent.

Mee Mumbai Boltoae — Doesn’t necessarily mean that I have to be a Mumbaikar, who cries. At present, the entire India and the world is mourning for Mumbai. I wonder how long is so long for India and it’s common people to wake up from the public amnesia?

Things have started to take their normal course in Mumbai. Routine schools, colleges, offices and same blame games — yes the attacks are still fresh in our minds, but for how long? Should we name the current state of the nation andits people as “post-terror” syndrome or “perpetual-terror” syndrome ? I am not sure…

My last post was an outpour of the immediate horror and an emotional response to the terror attacks. In the comments that followed immediately to the post, I found the same anger and sharp outburst which seemed an inevitable human response from people and fellow bloggers. There was plain rage, fear and unrest in all these comments. A friend sent me an SMS and said that she is resigning from her job because of the pain and trauma that she underwent reading the mails, newspapers, blogs and seeing the live broadcasts. Another acquaintance is distraught with the response of political parties, he feels helpless and lonely at the entire turn of events after the sanitization of the three affected places. I am sure that these are not the only people who feel in this manner, there must be many-many more like them.

Personally, I am feeling a bit let down by the huge clamour and noise where all voices are drowning into nothing but blame games. Perhaps, blaming each other is the easiest possible way to bifurcate emotions and focus. Citizens are blaming the system, the system is blaming intelligence agencies, intelligence sources are blaming political intervention, opposition is blaming ruling parties and ruling parties are blaming beyond-border “friends-turned-foes”, and beyond-border people are blaming India and US for the debacle. Result? -1000

What are we gaining by it? What are we doing? Lighting a candle, writing a post, blaming each other, forwarding gory mails with mail ids of all the recipients in the “to” and “cc” fields (so that we create more security hazards), resigning from jobs, religious uprising, even staging a coup — are these the real solution to the menace of terrorism? These might be instant responses, but we are doing the same things that terror-perpetrators do: we are being drugged and eating up painkillers of angry outbursts, trying to console ourselves with false pretensions of concern. If they were drugged to kill, we are now drugged to be killed with our improperly channeled sentiments.

What will we gain? Will a new Government solve the crisis entirely — considering the pathetic business that political parties are now trying to pounce on? Will a war against “that” one particular country solve the entire crisis of an international terror network which Mumbai is only a victim of? When media is being so provocative and all-knowing , why does it not work to save people before things went wrong? If intellectuals can discuss in panels, why can’t they rule the country with their so-called “gyan“? If intellectuals like Mahatma Gandhi, Sardar Patel, Ambedkar could formulate a vision and fight with the “then” terror-perpetrators, why can’t it be done now? Where is that intellectual leadership? I am afraid, but to be blunt, our intellectual masses including some of the famous writers, journos and analysts who are coming right now on television and bashing the establishment, are found in the evenings drunk and partying in Mumbai or Delhi clubs and social circuits , not able to handle their own drunk steps forget about handling terrorist’s moves . Yes, they too politicize. Why is the country left to a bunch of buffoons who don’t even know how to sign, forget about gathering international strength? If war actually solves problems, we have already have had three of them with that particular country (why do we forget HUJI which is a Bangladesh based huge network) — why is war not helping? For us war might be a painkiller, but not a cancer-healing drug. Let’s remember that we are victims of the cancerous malignancy of terrorism — we die.

India is no-doubt a soft country. Our blood says “love all, serve all“. But which father can “love” whose son has taken the bullets of the terrorists? Which father can love whom instead of showing respect, some of our “own men” humiliate? They are not “beyond-border-friends-turned-foes” they are our own people. Which citizen will love when their leaders are taking their sons and utterly disgusting film makers into the Taj to “verify the situation”? The former is also a father and the latter too is a father — one sacrifices his son and the other creates business for his son — both from terror.

We bring religion, caste, tribe into everything and a bunch of so called intellectuals try to analyze everything and pass comments, suggest remedies, even without knowing what they are talking of. But, no one touches the “truth” — though everyone prophesies to know the “truth”. Why do they fear, if they know the truth/truths? From the last couple of days of terror tamasha and the aftermath of it — disgust has grown. We are not helping ourselves, but helping those who want to see us in this condition.

The need of the hour is to recognize our strength and not harp on the weaknesses — the strength of a silent awakening in the common human being. It’s the time to act not debate — we waste a lot of time and energy in gossiping and debating. What is needed is to channelize our strength for the common good. Whatever little we are capable of doing needs to be done. I can write, someone can paint, some others can sketch, yet others can go to people (the lesser educated and in intellectual terms “lesser fortunate masses”), some can fight with the terrorists face-to-face and some others can boost morale — let’s do rather than watch or observe. I was speculating something that day after seeing a huge crowd near Nariman House just before it was freed. Just imagine if that crowd (it’s an utopia) even before NSG’s came in, had barged upon the doors and broken the shutters of the Nariman House at one go and entered and lynched the terror-perpetrators, what would have happened? If they can follow shock and awe why can’t we? How many would have they killed? 5, 10,15,100? Eventually, they did kill more than that number. NO! We are cowards who can lynch poor students who come to Mumbai to appear for railway examinations and we can lynch slum-dwellers who come here to work as there is no employment in their own towns. Pathetic and disgusting! Even the common people should be ashamed of their indifference, especially our youth which is rolling in the luxury of highly paid jobs and comfortable lifestyle.

It’s not a question of my country or yours — it’s a problem of the world. It’s very important to spread awareness among masses (we are highly populated too) regarding the danger that’s actually knocking at the doors. If there can be Public Health Missions, AIDS awareness mission, Population Control mission, TB mission, then this is a “National Security Mission” — which one needs to start from grass-root levels. International terrorism is also an AIDS and cancer which is slowly starting to take toll. Please do not wait for it to finish you up completely.

This morning there was a News flash that there have been blasts in Assam. If Mumbai is important so is Assam. Why prioritize one terror over the other? If you want to handle terror — handle it globally and let’s stop making business out of terror. We are accomplishes in the crime in that sense. It’s your world as much as it is mine — wake up before systematic terror capital destroys you completely.

We went watching “Jaane tu ya Jaane na”… the new movie released a few weeks back. Some thirty minutes after the movie began, I turned to look at Hemant’s face — it had grown pale and distant. “What happened? Not feeling well? Don’t like this movie? Let’s go back” — I bombarded him with questions concernedly. He nodded and said; “no I am well! completely well! I am just thinking” …”Thinking what?” I bombarded back…”No I am thinking that we are growing old…The movie shows that it’s no more my time. I want Madhuri Dixit dancing, Shahrukh Khan or Govinda or Amirkhan, not finding any one whom I know, …this is not our time”. He looked really-really sad and lost. Not that we didn’t enjoy the movie…we loved that. But, it made us increasingly uneasy about our existence in the scheme of nature’s ageing factor and the new social fad of one generation gap no more in ten or twelve years, rather in 4-5 years.

There were certain things in the movie that made us uncomfortable a little bit: (a) each young boy has to have a young girl as “girl-friend”/ “girlfriend” ; (b) everyone has to have a mobile phone in the group (funny? but true) and (c) how handsome/beautiful your companion is (the character rotlu is no match for the beautiful heroine Aditi even though he is the sweetest)? and so on …

Back in my hostel room, one whole night we sat gossiping about the life of film stars — as if we were just their family members. Pragyan suddenly said — “seeing Amir Khan now makes me nostalgic — I crave for our times– I saw him in Akele Hum Akele Tum or in Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar or in Rang de Basanti and it made me feel so connected and so very part of the movie”… for her not only Amir was growing ol’ but also reminded her of the little fantasies she had for the characters on the screen…she couldn’t explain more than that… there was no need for explaining more, since I too felt the same…not our times! We were quiet for a few moments before the next piece of gossip began.

But why? Why don’t we feel connected to the things shown in silver screen now? We ARE NOT THAT OLD 🙂 … I mean seriously, not trying to hide my age 😉 , but then why is there this gap between the visual experience and personal experience for some of us? Was hardly seven or eight years when QSQT was released, was in my 10th when DDLJ was released, but why do we identify more with those movies than with a movie of 2000s when we actually grew up to adulthood and understood the meaning of relationships? QSQT or Maine Pyar Kiya for that matter still flairs my imagination and fills me with nostalgia.

I mean it’s not about movies only…art also reflects human life and thinking to a certain extent. Have been thinking about it for sometime now…There is something strange and new about this generation — kids are completely independent (they have to own their personal mobile phones, bikes, gizmos) , parents are no more than silent witnesses to the drama of their children’s’ lives, complex inter-personal relationships in friend circles and many-many more new “occurrences” which are hard to be explained in words.

Last January I was in Bhubaneshwar, stayed there for a longer duration than usually do. What I saw in the city was appalling — the so called new generation comprised school kids who carry high-end mobile phones, wear “interesting new designer pieces” (caught this phrase in a discussion between two teenagers) and spend their time window shopping in the new mushrooming malls. What was a little upsetting was the time that these kids spent sitting in the malls — one day I observed a group of five sitting outside the Big Bazar complex, in the lobby area for more than six hours! We had come shopping for a wedding and had found this group sitting there from around 2′ o clock in the afternoon and they were still there when we left at 8′.15 in the evening. None of the group members as I could make out was beyond 15-17years and each of them had bikes which they sometimes took out to get the female members of the group to their adda (that’s what they were referring to the place). I was shocked to see the amount of time that they wasted admiring the neon-lit corners of these malls and the amount of money that must have gone into the dressing up of each of these kids.

But not just kids, I recently heard that an acquaintance who is around 38 years of age was getting married to a nineteen year female, daughter of a very rich shop owner. Why? Because he has friends who own large cars and land cruisers. This group went out lady-hunting in these cars; impressed younger rich-only-daughters spoilt by parents; took them out to discotheques, Icecream parlours, long drives — and finally short bedroom drives. Some of these lead to marriages and some don’t — but who cares! It reminded me of the movie Jane tu… where the group of friends use the same tactics to meet “new interesting people”. “Life is there to enjoy”, was told by that acquaintance himself…. I still am not clear about the new-emerging definitions of enjoyment.

So what was “Our times” ? I mean how do we define our times? Am sure each of us has a separate definition of “our times” — but to me our times meant the times when we didn’t have the conception of a necessity to have at least one “BF” or “GF” (short for Boyfriend/ Girlfriend) — and when the group meant “friends” and only “friends” irrespective of their sexual or financial status. It also referred to a time when relationships were a strictly private affair — the story revolved around “ONE” girl and “ONE” boy or at best a “LOVE TRIANGLE”. But what one gets to see both in movies and in reality these days are not just one or two or three people, but a “LOVE HEXAGON/LOVE PENTAGON/ LOVE QUADRANGLE/OPEN RELATIONSHIPS” and so on.

The younger generation is a mobile phone addicted generation — they just can’t live without their phones. And not just any phone, their choices are highly competitive while the companies are always ready to cater to the changing demands. For us, there was not only a fear of parents but a fear of teachers, relatives and neighbors too. I remember when we used to go out to the nearest market in Bhubaneshwar to shop in my MPhil days, the news used to reach my parents, staying 180 kms away in no time. We were slightly deviant from our generation by choosing to study and remain single, whereas most of my friends got married just after their graduation or engineering — either to boys of their own choice or to people whom their parents chose. For us, watching the silver screen with Madhuri Dixit dancing, or Amir/Shahrukh/Salman romancing, was a kind of “wish-fulfillment” for things which we could imagine. But now the movies show things which people would say : “arre yaar bilkul apne life ki carbon copy hai! They have stolen from our lives to make this movie”.

Well, I am not blaming the past, the present or the future! We are also to be blamed for not being able to cope-up with the changes which are so rapid that it takes a wink to register one epochal movement. We are slow and therefore feel uneasy in the heat of movement. The “Great Indian Middle Class” is in the midst of these whirlpool of transitions and that which we had earlier thought as the priviledge of the upper classes has slowly penetrated the middle class lives. Some of it is good no doubt, but maybe some of the changes are so overpowering that the balance is topsy-turveyed.

You can see these generation gaps blatantly in IITs between B.Techs, M.Techs and PhDs. Recently something funny happened with a female friend doing PhD who went to a party dominated mostly by B.Techs. One of the B.Tech guys who was a little tipsy came up to her and told her on her face: “aunty you are really very nice. Friends! aunty acchi hain…I like you maam.” 🙂 Poor girl she was completely embarassed and rushed out of the party with tears. That’s how it is sometimes…

There are many-many such instances where one sees mind boggling gaps in thinking. It’s not always funny and neither always grim. There must be a new crop of researchers/psychologists who should be documenting this fast track change in our society.

But for the time being keep your fingers crossed for “more” … all that can be said is “not our times”… It’s 2 am and I listen to Bob Dylan’s fantastic number “The Times They Are Changing'” where he prophesized in 1960’s the changing times :

…Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon
For the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who
That it’s namin’.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin’…

… Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin’.
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’.

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